


The Funeral March

by youremyqueen (orphan_account)



Category: Misfits
Genre: Comfort Sex, Drunkenness, F/M, Gen, Language, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, POV Male Character, POV Third Person, Season/Series 02, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-17
Updated: 2012-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-29 16:41:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/321966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/youremyqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Nathan is fucked up, but no one minds overmuch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Funeral March

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 5/6/11.

It's weird, because Nathan can't be bothered with any funeral that doesn't feature him as the main attraction, but he always shows up for the wakes, looking like he dressed himself blind and, if Simon had to wager a guess, probably just for the open bar.

There's the one where he throws up twice in his Mum's azalea bush and she yells at his slumped, shaking back that he'd never liked Jeremy, anyway, and to not come back, _please_. The rest of them stand around awkwardly like you do when there's family drama that isn't yours, and when Kelly finally manages to berate Nathan into the car and they're all sitting there with nothing to do but listen to the woman on the radio try to guess the price of a refrigerator, Alisha's eyes get watery and she looks at her hands and says, "I hate this kind of shit," and nobody asks for more clarification that that, because it's all shit right then, either way.

And later, when Nathan's been carted off on Simon, because no one else would have him - Kelly'd kissed him on the cheek and whispered something calming enough to make him stop fisting her sweater and laughing like a maniac, but she wouldn't have him - he's sure that Nathan doesn't actually have any idea who's bed he's getting into when he climbs up from the floor on unsteady limbs and steals most of the covers.

"You should go to sleep," Simon mutters pointlessly into the mop of curly hair next to him, but his hands are straying down across Nathan's chest and around to his back, inelegant and clumsy, and he feels like a creep, because he's not really sure if this kind of thing is considered comfort of just taking advantage, but Nathan is doing this weird half-laughing, half-snoring, half-clutching thing, and that's three halves that Simon doesn't know what else to do about.

The first jab of Nathan's cock against his stomach is expected, but scares him a bit anyway.

It's odd and fucked up and he's pretty sure Alisha knows that they've done this more times than you can count on one hand - but not so many that you can't count on two - but she doesn't really seem to mind when she comes in the next morning with tea and bagels to find Nathan, naked and curled up around Simon, breathing evenly against his chest.

She just throws a bagel at his head to wake him, and kisses Simon on the cheek.

"You're a good guy, you know," she tells him softly. He nearly believes her.

"Thank you," Nathan mumbles blearily into the covers.

"Oh, shut-up, you prick."

But they spend the rest of the morning - after Alisha makes them both get dressed - sitting on Simon's bed, drinking tea and recounting to Nathan in excruciating, hilarious detail, the events of the previous night.


End file.
